


Slow Ride

by akadiene



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, PWP, alcohol cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7647817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akadiene/pseuds/akadiene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long few days. Time for some lovely lady lovin'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Ride

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this was "lamilla?? like really sweet slow sex" and I hope I delivered.
> 
> Cross-posted from my [tumblr](https://www.fatlardo.tumblr.com) where you can request anything with any prompt through my inbox, and find more of my writing.
> 
> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4x9yKxtIJKg) is the tune I was listening to when writing this -- it's instrumental, why not listen to it why you read?

When Camilla steps into the condo, she’s unsurprised to find the cat curled on top of the kitchen island in the empty fruit bowl, ambient music floating through from the studio, and the living room exactly as she left it this morning. She flicks the light on, sets down her bags by the cat, and opens the fridge to grab the half-empty bottle of wine that’s one of six things in there. It’s her eighth straight day at the hospital – she thinks, at this point, her scrubs might as well be part of her skin – and Larissa’s been going through a bout of inspiration, which she calls “going in deep”, and means that she shuts herself up in the studio from the time she wakes up mid-morning until Camilla comes home in the evening. So they're a bit low on groceries. If Camilla didn’t know that there were seven things in the fridge this morning, and that the missing thing is a bowl of leftover pesto penne, she’d be worried Larissa isn’t eating.

She bends down to kiss Penny, who yawns widely before burying her face deeper into her fluffy white chest, then gathers up the wine and some glasses and pads down the hall to the studio. The door is closed – it always is – and she knocks lightly, not waiting for an answer before entering. 

“Larissa, babe,” she says loud enough to be heard over the music. She smiles when she sees Larissa sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, in a tank top and boxers she secretly suspects were stolen from Shitty, legs splattered with paint, eyes closed. “You awake?”

Larissa lifts a lazy hand and gestures blindly toward the enormous colourful canvas on an easel in the centre of the room. “Mm. Yes. I think I just finished this fucker and I’m basking.”

“Can I bask with you?”

Larissa opens one eye and Camilla gives the wine bottle a shake, and they both smile. 

“You smell like hospital. Let’s take a bath.”

“You can _not_ smell me from there,” Camilla says, but she helps Larissa up anyway. 

Their bathroom isn’t quite big enough for the size of their tub, which is enormous, but Camilla doesn’t care. After the bedroom, it’s her favourite room in the condo, and Larissa had indulged her every whim with it. The walls are a light lilac, and there’s painted lavender sprouting up from the floors on the walls, because Camilla loves lavender, and Larissa loves Camilla. 

The tub takes a long time to fill up enough but that’s all right – they take their turns undressing each other, pressing sweet, chaste kisses to the emerging spots of skin. They haven’t done more than kiss each other good night and good morning in a week, but tonight, Camilla wants to take her time. She’s missed this, this easiness, this languidity. Slowly, she feels the stress and tension caused by overworking leave her shoulders, and by the time they’re settled in the hot water, Larissa’s back to her chest, a glass of wine each in hand, she’s completely relaxed.

They don’t speak – they’ll do that later, or tomorrow, when Camilla’s three-day work-free stretch starts. Instead, Camilla sets her glass on the side of the tub and uses her hands to play in Larissa’s short hair, or rub her arms and belly, or lightly twist her nipples, pressing her lips to Larissa’s neck and shoulders the all the while. The sounds of the condo fill her up -- the steady drip-drip-drip of the faucet, the swish of the water when they readjust, their even breathing, little sighs, airy laughter.

Eventually, when their glasses are empty, her fingers are pruning and the water has cooled down, Camilla reluctantly begins the process of untangling her limbs from Larissa’s.

“Food,” Larissa says once they’re towelling each other off.

“Thai?”

Larissa nods her assent. God, but she’s beautiful, with her small, pale body light enough for Camilla to pick up when she wants to but strong enough to flip Camilla over on her back and hold her down when they’re feeling it. She’s got small dark freckles speckling her body, which Camilla loves finding and mapping out with her tongue, and the patch of dark hair leading to her vulva is enough to make Camilla’s mouth water. She bends down to give Larissa a kiss that’s just a bit further than sweet, a bit needier than the ones they’ve shared so far, and she feels so warm and light she’s almost dizzy when Larissa drops her towel to wrap her arms around her neck and respond enthusiastically.

At this rate, they’re going to have to take a shower later too. She finds she doesn’t really mind.

Too soon, Larissa pulls away, smirking, and walks out, not bothering to pick up her towel again. Camilla takes a deep breath to steady herself before wrapping herself up in a bathrobe and following. Larissa’s already got her laptop out where she’s sitting at the island naked, her fingers buried in Penny’s fur, and is ordering their food – and here there’s no need to speak either, because after all this time, she knows exactly what Camilla likes.

Camilla just leans against the wall and watches her – the way her right fingers drum against the countertop while her other hand sweeps across the touch pad, the way she bites her lip when she’s concentrating, the way she softly jiggles her toes against the metal of the stool.

“C’mon,” Camilla says when Larissa closes the laptop, offering her hand. The food is going to take at least an hour but probably more – she’ll say, if asked, she picked it because it’s their favourite Thai in the city, but mostly it was because she knew the restaurant is slow.

She leads them to the bedroom, where the bed is still unmade from this morning and there are clothes dotting the floor, and where she finally picks up Larissa and places her gently on the bed, wasting no time in taking off her robe and falling on top of her. They kiss unhurried, like wading through water, both soft and sweet-smelling from the soap, hands roaming lightly over skin. Sometimes they’re quick and rough and dirty and sometimes Larissa wears a strap-on and fucks her from behind and sometimes there’s this, arousal thrumming deep in her belly but quietly, in no rush to be sated, warmth enveloping them from all around. When she finally slips her fingers through Larissa’s coarse hair and into her slit, they’re both wet and humming in anticipation. 

Larissa gasps and rocks against her hand, pulling her flush to her chest, taut nipples brushing together. Camilla uses two fingers to rub circles around Larissa’s clit, feeling its slight swell, revelling in the silky smooth feel of it. She alternates between pressing harder and lighter, dipping lower with every round she makes. The gasps quicken the closer she gets to Larissa’s vagina, and when she at last dips her fingers in it’s to find Larissa open and relaxed and wet and hot and it’s so perfect she has to close her eyes and press her forehead into the crook of Larissa’s neck.

Her other hand is trapped at her side so she shifts until it’s positioned to play with Larissa’s small breasts, cupping and squeezing and tweaking, because she knows how sensitive she is to this, and the sounds coming from Larissa’s mouth make her light-headed with want. She begins thrusting in and out, pressing up on the in, using her thumb to stroke her clit the whole time, eventually adding a third finger when she feels Larissa tighten her legs as she gets close. When she pauses to push Larissa’s knees open, Larissa whines, the sound loud in the quiet, and Camilla huffs in laughter against her neck.

“ _Millie_ ,” Larissa breathes when Camilla goes back to task, and she feels drunk, like she can never get close enough, needing more more more of this. Her own cunt is almost leaking now, waiting for anything, but she almost never wants to stop. It’s perfect. Or – no, actually, not quite, it’s, oh,  _now_ it is. Larissa arches her back and thrashes, crying out over and over, and Camilla feels the gush of come on her hands. She doesn’t stop, not yet, not until Larissa is lying back panting, twitching uncontrollably with every extra swipe of her clit, her arm thrown over her eyes, smiling. 

Camilla wipes her hand on the sheets and pulls it up around Larissa’s waist, not yet impatient, content to watch Larissa come down from the high, to pepper her with more kisses where she can reach.

“You are really–” Larissa begins, still breathless, but is interrupted by a knock on the door. They both groan in unison.

“I’m sticky!” Larissa says when Camilla looks up at her through her eyelashes.

“So am I, and I’ve got to hand over the money,” Camilla says, but she’s already pushing herself up.

“Please, you’re using your debit card. I’ll make it up to you.”

Camilla rolls her eyes as she reaches down for her bathrobe again, aware she smells and looks like sex. Oh, well. She’ll leave a good tip.

“What do you think about eating in here?” she asks, just as she’s leaving and there’s another knock at the door.

“Oh. Yeah. I wasn’t planning on leaving this bed at least until noon, not unless there's a fire or bladder-related situation.”

Camilla turns to look at the scene on the bed: Larissa laid out like she was made to be there, flushed and grinning and gorgeous. She could take a photograph right now and pin it up next to Larissa's paintings at the gallery and it wouldn't look out of place.

“Yeah,” Camilla says, heart full, “me neither.”


End file.
